


the other side of paradise

by mrkhyckh



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, M/M, briwoon is implied, i don't know what a writing style is, i wrote this at 3am and i'm sorry, jaepil without the pil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 07:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12978975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrkhyckh/pseuds/mrkhyckh
Summary: a breakdown of moments memories times jaehyung breathes flowers





	the other side of paradise

+  
jaehyung has always loved flowers. everything about them entrances him. the silk of the petals against his calloused fingers (from years of strings), sweet fragrance of a language he has yet to learn (he keeps meaning too- just forgets. life gets in the way music music music.), even the bitter aftertaste (the soft tickle in his throat. a constant). he thinks flowers came before music, guitar, singing. wonpil.  
  
he’s on the bathroom floor. door locked legs crossed head down. he stares at the dark red in his hands.  
  
_dianthus caryophyllus_ , he thinks. carnations. wonpil.  
  
he sighs, softly touching the small petal between his thumb and index finger. he brings it closer to his face, inspecting.  
  
a knock.  
  
“hyung? you okay in there? it’s been like, ten minutes.”  
_read: you haven’t been yourself lately, we’re concerned._  
  
fuck.  
  
fuckfuckfuck _fuck_  
  
“ye-yeah, pilie. i’m fine, just thinking.”  
_means: i know_  
  
his voice sounds rough even to his own ears. hoarse, sad, in love. wonpil.  
  
he clears his throat.  
  
and coughs.  
  
the petals fall through his fingers, overflowing.  
  
jaehyung can physically see wonpil hesitating outside the bathroom door, nimble hand resting against the door. eyes sad. everyone’s sad.  
  
he watches his shadow feet shift uneasily, watches another approach. he hears the rumble of dowoon’s voice but he can’t understand the words.  he blinks. they’re both gone.  
  
he stays on the floor.  
  
-  
  
hanahaki disease is rare, but not unheard of. jaehyung can pinpoint the exact moment he realizes it isn’t just a normal cold. the moment his death sentence is confirmed.  
  
-  
  
the practice room is cold. colder than usual, anyways. it’s mid-winter and nobody thinks to turn on the heater.  
  
the deadline is coming up and everyone’s stressed. sungjin and wonpil go over lyrics by the keyboard while younghyun and dowoon speak quietly in the corner. jaehyung watches.  
  
he doesn’t watch anything in particular. his eyes skip from object to object, person to person. there but not really.  
  
he clears his throat.  
swallows.  
  
chiming laughter erupts from where sungjin and wonpil stand. jaehyung’s eyes drift over lazily, landing on wonpil’s giggling form. he feels his lips twitch in response, ignoring the way his stomach lurches at the sound. he wonders what made the younger laugh so clearly when they’ve all been under such stress.  
  
he runs a hand through his dyed-blonde hair, messing it more. he looks away from wonpil.  
  
he feels something at the back of his throat and coughs.  
  
a pale pink petal, almost the size of the pad of his thumb, finds itself in his hand.  
  
the other members look towards him, their faces holding concern.  
  
“don’t you dare get sick, hyung. we need you for this comeback.” wonpil says from beside the keyboard, his tone not-quite joking not-quite serious. an in between.  
  
jaehyung barely heard him over the sound of his own heart beat, the rush of blood in his ears. the petal hidden in his closed fist. but he looks up anyways, meeting wonpil’s gaze head on, “sick? me? never.”  
  
a grin.  
  
the two by the keyboard seem satisfied with the response, they turn back to each other. jaehyung’s eyes linger on wonpil’s form as he turns his concentration back to the lyrics.  
  
he opens his hand, scanning the pale pink. he’s screwed. he knows it the moment he again feels a tickle in his throat. this isn’t just some freak accident type thing.  
  
he feels someone watching him. he looks up and meets younghyun’s eyes.  
concern.  
  
he places the petal in his pocket.  
  
-  
  
jaehyung knows he’ll never get the surgery. choosing to suffer in silence, slowly dying than to give up his feelings and memories of the keyboardist.  
  
younghyun tells him the opposite.  
  
-  
  
he actively starts avoiding wonpil the day after the first petal comes. he avoids younghyun too, not wanting to have the conversation they’re inevitably going to have. he thinks it’s better if he just lets it happen.  
  
that is until younghyun and dowoon corner him in their shared bedroom.  
  
jaehyung’s on his bed, scrolling through his phone when the duo walks in, closing the door behind them.  
  
“hyung. we need to talk.” dowoon starts and jaehyung knows where it’s going.  
  
“no, we don’t.” he counters.  
  
“you know this is only going to get worse, you need to let us help you.” younghyun replies.  
  
“with what? being in love with someone who doesn’t love me back?” jaehyung snaps, tilting his head back to meet the bassists eyes.  
  
younghyun holds his gaze for a moment before looking down ( _pause_ ), then to dowoon ( _pause. pause_ ), then back to jaehyung.  
  
“you’re going to die if you don’t let us help you, jae.” younghyun says in english, his voice soft.  
  
dowoon nods along, as if he knows what the elder of the two just said.  
     _(note: he doesn’t)_  
  
jaehyung feels his hands go cold, “i know, brian.” he says, uncharacteristically serious. his voice was barely a whisper. he clears his throat.  
  
“you know there are options, to cure it.” younghyun continues. dowoon watches.  
  
jaehyung nods slightly, barely a detectable movement. pressure building behind his eyes, “i know, brian.”  
  
“nobody has to know. we can schedule an appointment with a doctor, just you, me and dowoon. sungjin and wonpil don’t have to know. our fans don’t have to know.” younghyun suggests. hopes.  
  
dowoon glances at younghyun upon hearing his name. jaehyung stays silent, younghyun translates.  
  
jaehyung takes a deep breath, a slight puff of air leaving his mouth on the exhale, not necessarily a cough, but it’s enough for petals.  
  
they’re darker, more bitter. wet.  
  
and it’s all it takes.  
  
jaehyung makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, everything coming crashing at him all at once. he clenches the petals in his hand and feels the gentle skin break. dowoon leaves the room.  
  
he doesn’t realize he’s crying until younghyun pulls him close, whispering in his ear that _it’ll be okay we’ll sort this out you’ll be fine._  
  
“i don’t want the surgery, bri. i don’t want to forget him. i don’t want to live my life stuck as an emotionless mess because i got some stupid fucking disease because i loved a boy who didn’t love me back. i don’t want to die. oh god brian, i don’t want to die. i don’t want to love him. why do i love him. brian please i don’t know what to do i-“ jaehyung cuts himself off with a sob. he’s never felt so helpless hopeless desperate in his life. he’s never wanted something so badly that he felt it consume him. that he’s willing to die for it.  
  
jaehyung clutches to younghyun as if he was drowning and younghyun could save him. as if by some miracle younghyun could remove the flowers from the older man's chest.  
  
jaehyung thinks something inside of him breaks.  
  
-  
  
guitar is constant. something jaehyung can rely on to be there when everything else isn’t. something jaehyung can turn to when the sink fills with dianthus caryophyllus .  
  
jaehyung writes melody after melody. wonpil’s eyes, lips, fingers, smile.  
  
younghyun keeps sungjin and wonpil oblivious.

he and dowoon deals with the petals.  
  
-  
  
he can’t sing anymore. bouts of coughing occurring too frequently for him to be able to hold a note longer than three seconds. the petals have become almost black. his fingers left red.  
  
sometimes he sees younghyun cry, holding onto dowoon.  
  
the ache in his chest grows and it gets harder to breath.  
  
-  
  
jaehyung knows the sensible thing to do is get the flowers removed. he’s almost convinced he should.  
  
but then he looks at wonpil. and everything feels so light and he feels so light.  
  
and then wonpil smiles and jaehyung can’t breath.  
  
and he’s in the bathroom, vomiting so many petals jaehyung can’t see anything past flowers and blood. black and red. carnations. wonpil.  
  
-  
  
they cancel the december concerts. sungjin and wonpil’s concern growing more and more for jaehyung’s deteriorating state.  
  
his lips are stained red.  
  
dowoon wants to tell the other two, sungjin at least. younghyun says they deserve to know.  
  
jaehyung’s too tired to say no. too weak. selfish.  
  
he doesn’t think he can talk.  
  
the petals fill his mouth.  
  
-  
  
they’re in the living room on a wednesday. jaehyung sits on the floor. he doesn’t face them.  
  
he sits facing the television, knees pulled to his chest. head on his knees. younghyun’s voice barely echoes around the room.  
  
wonpil’s crying. sungjin doesn’t can’t won’t believe it.  
  
jaehyung closes his eyes momentarily, his heart aching as he listens.  
  
he unfolds himself and turns around.  
  
wonpil stands and moves over to jaehyung, hesitates. he gently places himself in eldest’s lap, curling his legs around jaehyung, places his hands  gently on either side of his face. as if jaehyung might break.  
  
jaehyung feels petals rise. he swallows.  
  
“i’m so sorry, hyung.”  
  
tears blur his vision, warping wonpil into something beyond recognizable. he blinks and they fall. wonpil clears. his chest heaves.  
  
he wraps his arms around wonpil and buries his face in the younger’s neck, sobbing louder than he ever has before.  
  
_wonpilwonpilwonpilimsosorrywonpilpleaseforgivemewonpililoveyouiloveyouiloveyou_  
  
he doesn’t know how long they stay like that.  
  
but it’s only the two of them left awake when they finally separate.  
  
-  
  
jaehyung wakes up and petals are everywhere. all different colours. all wet with red. wonpil.  
  
dowoon helps him clean them up.  
  
he doesn’t cry.  
  
-  
  
it’s the evening at the beginning of spring when it finally happens.  
  
when jaehyung’s body gives in.  
  
everyone’s happy. for once in sososo long.  
  
jaehyung has a guitar, they’re singing. wonpil’s singing. younghyun’s singing. sungjin’s singing. dowoon laughs along. tapping on the coffee table a quick beat. jaehyung can’t speak.  
  
everything’s blurry around the edges, has been for days. jaehyung ignores it. doesn’t tell anyone.  
  
he knows what it means.  
  
jaehyung judges their harmonies, giving unimpressed looks when suited. wonpil laughs at something sungjin says and jaehyung can’t breath.  
  
he coughs softly, moving the guitar off of his lap. he expects it to be over as soon as it started. the bouts had been getting shorter.  
  
he knows what that means too.  
  
what he doesn’t expect is the sudden pain in his chest, as if someone set his lungs on fire. he gasps, eyes going wide.  
  
he’s coughing.  
  
petals are everywhere.  
  
everything goes white.  
  
he can’t see past coughing blood wonpil carnations petals.  
  
he can’t think past coughing blood wonpil carnations petals.  
  
he can’t feel past coughing blood wonpil carnations petals.  
  
he tries apologizing past coughing blood wonpil carnations petals.  
  
but there’s only coughing blood wonpil carnations petals. wonpil.  
  
there’s only wonpil.  
  
+

**Author's Note:**

> *loudly* Yikes  
> 


End file.
